The Hanging Tree
by HextheDaydreamer
Summary: Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say murdered three. Rated T for character death. Oneshot.


Author's Note: I've been listening to _The Hanging Tree _by Sam Cushion & Rachel Macwhirter all day in between a few parody songs like _I'm on a Blimp _and _I can be Your Villain_, I itching to write a torture fic with Yami Marik but anyways, I would suggest putting that specific song on replay while reading this.

Read and Review at Your Leisure.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh does not belong to me.

**Edit: **Fixed some errors at last!

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><p>There was that brief interval of weakness, two seconds max, as the procession of inmates were led towards the great tree. A fear sparked in those dark eyes, but they faded. <em>He<em> faded. The Hanging Tree stood like a black, gnarled hand sticking awkwardly out of the earth, hundreds of empty nooses swung in the wing, shadows played under the barren branches. He was dead long before they began hanging him, tightening the necklace of rope around his pale neck. He just couldn't understand it, this feeling of defeat. He was weak, emaciated, jaded; he had finally succumbed to that mortal feeling of utter hopelessness. Was anyone crying? He couldn't tell and he didn't care.

Ryou was silent as a log, clutching Marik's arm and urging him to stay quiet, don't let them find us. Marik huffed indignantly and shook Ryou off, clenching his fists angrily beneath his cloak.

"Screw that, he _will_ know that I am here. Stay in the shadows, if I don't come back, my brother will find you."

"Marik!" the white-haired boy ran forward and shook his head, glancing at the tree and moving to one side as the Pharaoh Atem strode past them. His consort, Yugi, was trailing behind him attempting to look happy or determined, but failing miserably, those big purple eyes betrayed too much innocence and guilt to be considered brave or stoic. Atem stood before the tree, staring into the crowd as if searching for someone, then started talking in that dignified, kingly manner.

"Bakura, Thief King, for your crimes against Egypt and the world over, I hereby sentence you to death without trial. Does anyone dispute this?" The people were silent, a hush moved over the crowd only to be broken.

"I do!" Marik shoved Ryou into the shadows and threw off his hood; a mane of golden hair fell down his back, lavender-blue eyes blazed in defiance. He marched past the rabble, they parted from him like he was the plague, and he spit at Pharaoh's feet before Wheeler beat him to the ground. Wheeler wasn't the smartest of the Royal Guard, his shaggy blond hair covered his eyes and there was a serious lack in that space between the ears, if you follow my meaning. His skin was tougher than a Nile crocodile; he was loyal like a dog

"You will _not_ hang this man!" Marik growled, struggling against Wheeler's vice grip.

"I recognize you…You are Marik Ishtar, you guarded my tomb." Marik mumbled something impolite and Wheeler shoved his face into the ground, he coughed up the dirt and glared up at his king.

"I did. Cursed was that life and I won't go back to it."

"Clearly. But why save the Thief King?"

If silence was employed by the people, there would be no need for grave robbers to steal gold. There was no sound, no birds, no wind in the trees, Bakura was mute. Atem kneeled, pushing his robes behind him and grabbing Marik's chin.

"Why save him?" he asked again in a harsher tone.

"Because…I love him, Pharaoh." Bakura flinched, turning his head to stare at Marik as he shoved Wheeler back and pulled out his Millennium Rod, stabbing the Guard and moving to Bakura, unbinding his hands and feet.

"I love the Thief King! I love him and I will not allow him to die."

"You fool." Marik looked at Bakura who stared at him dumbly, kissing his lips and capturing his tongue. There, in the passionate clashing of prisoner to saviour, honey mingled with bitter strawberry. The crowd gave a collective gasp as the Millennium Ring glowed around Bakura's neck, the noose was burned off and the thief's feet wobbled, Marik caught his lover before he fell and cast fire into the surrounding vegetation and a few unsuspected townsfolk. Bakura chuckled at the scene and Marik grinned throwing a fireball into a group of old women, the villains laughed as skin and hair melted away and screams occupied the space above their heads.

Ryou pulled up in a wagon filled with straw and Marik pushed the younger man into the back and told Ryou to ride hard. Rain poured down from the heavens, Atem stood before the tree unmoving as Yugi opened up a black canvas and shielded his king. People were hurrying the wounded to safety and the Pharaoh's army moved out after the trio.

The Hanging Tree was empty, it moaned and groaned against the gale storm and Wheeler got up, pressing a hand into his stomach and wincing at the pain it caused.

"Shall I go after them?"

"…No…Let them go. He won't last."

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><p>"By the gods of the Underworld, Ryou, can you go any faster?"<p>

"I can't! The horses are too tired! Jump off here, I'll lead them away!"

"Be careful, my friend."

Marik hefted Bakura into his arms and jumped off the wagon, rolling down the hill and pulling Bakura into the tall grass. Foot soldiers ran past them, hollering and throwing their spears blindly at Ryou as he disappeared behind a corner, one soldier noticed the flattened grass. Marik stared down at Bakura.

"Please, love, breathe a little quieter. I used a lot of magic for the light show back there. Please, Bakura."

"I can't, Marik, go…The Pharaoh, he won't…Marik.." the Egyptian put a hand over Bakura's mouth and came on top of him, dragging his dark cloak over them both. Bakura was trying to push Marik off him, kicking his legs and moaning into his partner's hand.

_I can't breathe….I can't breathe….Marik, I-I-I can't…I can't…Can't…Can't…._

The soldiers were arguing about something unimportant, shoving and swearing then running off. As their footsteps carried off into the distance, Marik jumped off his lover and into the air with a triumphant cry.

"We did it Bakura! We beat the Pharaoh…! Bakura?"

The thief didn't move, lying flat on his back, hair splayed across the ground, tangled in mud and dust and grass. Marik ran over and shook his friend, glancing up every now and then and choking.

"Bakura…Bakura, wake up. Bakura!" His eyes were like shining onyx crystals, like the night absent of starlight, smouldering coal in the fire. His eyes were dead now, dead like chivalry and hope, dead like…Red poppies blowing in the wind, losing petals. Marik felt the tears prick the corner of his eyes, he remembered closing them and feeling the drops of moisture coat his cheeks and fall over his lips.

"You're dead, aren't you?"

Marik moved his fingers over Bakura's eyes, helping to close them. He received no answer.

"You look like you're dreaming…Lips parted, hair like a tumbleweed, the way your fists are clenched. It's cute." Marik leaned over Bakura, letting his tears fall on the thief's face, he chuckled lightly.

"There, now you're sad too." He gave way to laughter then, tears falling more freely, limbs trembling like leaves, choking and sobbing, the last defences crumbling away. He moved on top of Bakura again, straddling his hips and twisting his fingers around snowy-white tresses, pulling at them and shaking.

"I never heard you say it…I love you, I mean. I never…you couldn't bring yourself to…" He brushed an arm over his eyes and wiped his nose with his cloak. The Millennium Items were silent, glowing dimly in the grass, the wet _tink-tink _of rain going unnoticed.

"I wanted to hear it, Bakura!…One last time but you've robbed me of that and what's left of my heart!" He cried, slapping Bakura's face and staring at the mark, how it darkened, how it might've stung. Whatever impulse took over him then, the raw sorrow and pain, he found himself kissing the corpse. He reeled suddenly, fingers flying to his lips in horror.

"Still warm…You're still warm." But Bakura was cold, limbs frozen at his sides, already too pale, too quiet…Too dead. Marik kissed him again and again, taking in that warmth, stealing it away, becoming breathless in ecstasy. Numb lips, immovable tongue cleaving to pink flesh.

Dead…Not Dead...Not His Bakura…Not His Thief.

Marik fell to rapid convulsions, foaming at the mouth as he held onto Bakura's chest.

"Ba...kura…I l-l-lov…"

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><p><em>I know Marik, I love you too.<em>


End file.
